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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681740">Shangri-La</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigzagwanderer/pseuds/Zigzagwanderer'>Zigzagwanderer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Idiots in Love, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Pandemics, Quarantine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:15:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigzagwanderer/pseuds/Zigzagwanderer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorry I haven't had time to write much recently, but I'm dedicating this to a non-fandom friend even though it's rushed. </p><p>Basically, Hux and Ren try to escape the Order, but Ren gets to pick the planet from which they will go their separate ways and it's a disaster. (or is it?)  </p><p>(Title from the Ed O'Brien song.)</p><p>Comments would be great! I hope you enjoy this!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shangri-La</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s too small.”</p><p>“You’re too big. Just get undressed, you fool. And mind your elbow.”</p><p>“That wasn’t my elbow. And how the kriff can I, Hux? It’s tighter than a trooper’s groin-guard in here. And as sticky.”</p><p>There’s a pause. Hux starts stripping off in the spaceport utility room, a forbidden flash of starlight in the metallic dark. </p><p>His voice sounds strained. “Well, you’d know more about that than me.” </p><p>Ren actually doesn’t know much about <em>that</em>. Not <em>lately</em>, anyhow. Not since Hux got promoted to Co-Commander, and appointed himself as Ren’s personal ball-breaker into the bargain.  </p><p>Beyond the docking area, herds screech and caterwaul, out on the prairies. It was meant to be the ideal place to touch down in their two-person stealth craft, check they hadn’t been followed, then split up to take off on their separate trajectories. </p><p>Instead, the interstellar hub is being knuckled into lock-down, and they’re hiding in a cupboard.  </p><p>Ren takes off his armour, his immaculate black, but the feeling of being <em>naked</em> isn’t to do with him shedding his scary cloak. </p><p>It’s been that way with Ren ever since General Hux turned to him in the corridor of the Finaliser, looked him straight in the eye, and asked quietly if he’d ever considered running away.</p><p>“You might have to help me with the buttons.” Ren’s crammed himself into the rawhide outfit they just stole from the back of a farmer’s cart. Disguising himself as some kind of cowboy version of a Hutt pleasure-slave was <em>not</em> part of The Plan. </p><p>But Ren’s improvising like crazy here.</p><p>It’s the least that Hux deserves, for not just leaving him behind when he decided to escape the Order.   </p><p>“And, listen, I’m sorry, ok? About there being a plague here and everything.”</p><p>General Hux (retired. Or deceased, he supposes, depending on how High Command cover up the matter of his treasonous abscondence), sighs.</p><p>And shimmies into what can only be described as a peasant blouse. </p><p>With his hair washed out loose in a mop-bucket, he might just about blend in until he can work something out. It’s a pity to lose his favourite gloves, though; they were hardly bloodstained at all.  </p><p>“You couldn’t have smuggled us to more primitive backwater if you’d tried, you idiot,” he snaps, half-heartedly; by rote, he supposes. </p><p>Although he’s hardly been allowed the luxury of a humdrum routine since he met Ren. All that naiveté and nerve has shown Hux how ambition and dedication are the bad habits of a lonely man. Like smoking, or inventing weaponry capable of obliterating entire galaxies.    </p><p>“The yokels in charge should be executed for allowing a contagious nanovirus to even <em>exist</em>. They must have been riding roughshod over our most excellent immunisation protocols for <em>years</em>…”</p><p>Hux stops. </p><p>The propaganda on his tongue is bitter, but at least it’s familiar, like the fruit-flavoured grain alcohol he once counted as a breakfast cereal, before Ren came into his life and insisted that they share things.</p><p>Such as granola. </p><p>And identical shift schedules. </p><p>And bunk beds.   </p><p>“I’ll go first.” Hux opens the door of the shack. “While you learn how to walk in those trousers.”</p><p>Outside, the pandemic has unleashed pandemonium. </p><p>It’s a rural planet, so there’s a lot of pitchfork-waving. There is also screaming, and the stench of dung has been enriched with the sudden stench of panic. </p><p>The fire and chaos make Hux feel homesick for nowhere in particular.</p><p>He doesn’t have to check that Ren’s following behind him, as he crosses the port bay and hacks into an archaic mainframe terminal, because that would be as absurd as checking that he still had a shadow. </p><p>Or the other half of whatever inky void might constitute his soul.  </p><p>“I can’t reverse the state of quarantine. We’re trapped here.” Hux looks up worriedly at Ren for a moment. </p><p>The idiot’s trying to break a ship free for them, with his bare hands. </p><p>It’s <em>beautiful</em>. </p><p>And it’s also stupid, really, the way Hux has been trying to care for the most powerful person he’s ever met. He had meant for all that pathetic overprotectiveness to end with their escape.</p><p>Ren would be fine, out there on his own in an unforgiving universe.  </p><p>Because at least he would be <em>free</em>.</p><p>Hux stabs harder at the clunky anchor-release keys. “Of all the stubborn, unresponsive systems…”</p><p>“Well,” Ren grumbles, giving up, and sulking a little because Hux wouldn’t let him bring a light-sabre. Too…<em>flamboyant</em>, blah blah blah. “You did say our last planet together should remind me of you.”</p><p>Hux blushes like a milkmaid. Possibly because he’s dressed like one. </p><p>He’s been horribly aware that conspiring with Ren had only made the yearning worse. </p><p>Inventing cute codewords together. Passing secret notes, right there on the deck. Whispering in dark corners. Getting rid of people who might have suspected what they were plotting. Getting rid of other people that they just didn’t like very much.     </p><p>If it hadn’t been strictly a mutually-beneficial business arrangement, then a more sentimental officer might have imagined that such an intimacy was inevitably leading to a <em>shared</em> happy ending. </p><p>One involving sunsets and poetry and insane amounts of incredibly dirty sex. </p><p>“I though you understood the remit.” Hux tries to straighten his cuffs, but it isn’t a uniform and the silky fabric just gets tugged further down his shoulders. Ren tries not to notice that Hux apparently has collarbones. “Perhaps I made a strategic mistake.” </p><p>And not just with his fanciful, flirtatious instructions. </p><p>But with his heart.</p><p>Because realising that you’re in love with someone you’re never going to see again, was definitely <em>not</em> part of The Plan.</p><p>“Yeah?” Ren says. It’s not great repartee but when Hux colours up so prettily like that, he just can’t think straight. </p><p>Either that or he’s inhaled too much spilled rocket fuel. </p><p>Ren swallows and gently crowds Hux back against the holoscreen.</p><p>Maybe it’s time he was brave about something other than slaughtering rebel scum, or cool shit like spelunking in the Tentacled Caves of Doom.</p><p>“What I meant, you fool,” Hux feels Ren’s leather tassels brush against him and is suddenly glad he’s wearing a dirndl, “was that you should choose somewhere…civilised. Remote. Disciplined.” </p><p>“Oh?” Ren murmurs. “And I thought you meant someplace kind of old-fashioned, but in a sweet, sexy kind of a way?” He pulls a shred of smouldering straw out of Hux’s gorgeous hair. “Someplace…<em>not great at seeing that someone they work with really, really likes them..?</em>”</p><p>Hux clutches onto their emergency survival kit, as if amongst all the cures and potions he packed, there might be some antidote for a terminal case of adoration. </p><p>“Sexy?" he blusters. "Old-fashioned? For kriff’s sake, that’s not even planetary terminology,” he tries for exasperated, but it comes out as fondly forgiving. “Did you even read those astrophysics manuals I got you for your birthday?” </p><p>“Nope.” Ren confesses, slowly. “Because then you would have stopped helping me all the time with all the…space stuff. And I <em>like</em> you helping me.”</p><p>They’re close now. Toe-to-toe. Hux frowns up at Ren. Then it isn’t frowning, it’s that other thing.</p><p>“<em>Everyone</em> in the Order is immune to <em>everything</em>, Hux. Not just the, er, weird rashes and gross flesh-eating bugs and whatever, but you know, stuff like…<em>passion</em>.” Ren feels as transparent as the outfit Hux is nearly wearing. As if a single stray touch could shatter him. “All of them except you.”</p><p>“Ridiculous,” Hux tries to step back, but he has nowhere to escape to, not really. “My entire job was about reining you in.”</p><p>“You caught me when I fell, Hux. Every time. No matter what dumb shit I got up to. That’s not control. That’s, you know…empowerment or something.”</p><p>“You’re deluded.”</p><p>“Yeah? Remember that time you came skinny dipping with me in that plasma lake?”</p><p>“We nearly died, Ren.”</p><p>“But the point is we didn’t. And you’re the only one who ever calls shotgun when I’m piloting the Silencer.”</p><p>“It’s an insurance matter. You still haven’t got your full license yet and I have a liability waiver.”</p><p>“Then what about keeping me company while I meditate?”</p><p>“It’s called supervision, and you…you need your rest, Ren, the way they push you, mission after mission…” Hux trails off with as much dignity as his ensemble allows. Observing Ren when he’s peaceful is just as wonderful as fighting at his side when he’s slaughtering rebel scum. “You know what you’re like when you get cranky.” </p><p>Ren wants and wants. To bite along Hux’s tense jawline and soothe the vein about to rupture in his temple. </p><p>“Please, Hux.” Ren dares to put his hands, carefully, around Hux’s waist. “<em>Armitage.</em> This pestilence could be the best thing that ever happened to us…”</p><p>A painfully-loud shearing noise screams from the control tower. An accompanying explosion hurls the cowboy and the milkmaid apart. </p><p>The sky goes yellow, then supernova pink, then grey. </p><p>Then yellow again.</p><p>Slowly the dust and ash begin to drift downwards. </p><p>Hux stands up warily. Flecks of various sorts of flesh and fallen equipment litter the docking area.</p><p>“Every circuit board seems to have malfunctioned.” Hux helps Ren up. They could stop holding hands after that, but they don’t. “And all of the navigation droids self-destructed.”   </p><p>“Oh yeah,” Ren shrugs and examines their interlaced fingers. “I meant to tell you, this whole nanovirus thing? It’s only been engineered to attack technology. You know, computers and stuff like that?” Ren blinks. “I kind of…sensed it. Earlier. It can’t damage anything biological.”</p><p>Ren knows he should probably add something hilarious at this point about Hux being at risk, because all the troopers say he’s a robot, what with his lack of sensitivity and those goddamn cheekbones, but being cruel to Hux got kind of old a while back.</p><p>And he just looks so wanton, all covered in other folks’ blood and brake fluid and whatnot, that Ren really wants to escort him to the nearest hayloft and remind him what being biological really means.</p><p>“You mustn’t use your powers, your Force signature is unique,” Hux chides him firmly, and slides his hands around a bit, checking Ren over for cuts and bruises, and also because he just wants to. “As are you, my lovely fool.”</p><p>Ren licks that ridiculous lower lip of his. Then Hux licks it for him.</p><p>They kiss until some of the pierheads actually start collapsing around them.</p><p>Ren pulls Hux under an awning. “I guess that now you know what specification of nanovirus got loose, you can fix it with something from our survival kit? Get us on our way again?”</p><p>There’s quite the silence. </p><p>Eventually Hux shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Kylo, there’s nothing remotely suitable in there. I didn’t pack quite as carefully as I should have. We’re just going to have to find an abandoned cabin somewhere and lie low together until it plays itself out.”</p><p>“Oh, I see. Ok. Alright.” Ren nods. Hux is perfect, but it’s also kind of cool that he occasionally fucks up, especially if the thought of losing Ren was what got him so distracted. “Actually, I might know just the right spot.”</p><p>And he does. Surprisingly, Ren did understand the remit, so he knows that although the planet seems dull and boring at first glance, there are fun parts and unexpected parts, and there are also very precious, hidden parts, if one has the time for a thorough and extensive exploration.   </p><p>Ren walks over to an upturned wagon and picks out an axe and a bundle of furs for Hux to lie low on. The forested mountain region he has in mind will be getting chilly soon. </p><p>Then he reaches under a cartwheel and pulls out a swanky antique wristwatch, still attached to a not-so-swanky, disembodied arm. </p><p>It’s kinda classy, and would make a swell gift for somebody’s new sweetheart, but Ren recalls that, unfortunately, it’s also likely to explode in the next couple of hours. </p><p>The nanovirus that Ren deliberately inflicted upon the planet can also mess with mechanical things as well as anything technological, so he has to toss the chronometer away. </p><p>Hopefully, Hux won’t feel the need to watch the clock anyways.</p><p>He casually adds a gallon jar of oil to their wheel-barrow of supplies.</p><p>Hux comes over with a some fruit and bread and a gigantic jar of rubbing grease and leans in against Ren’s back.  </p><p>“Kylo, we’ll be just fine,” he says, reassuringly. </p><p>And he means it, otherwise he would never have just destroyed the appropriate vials of anti-nanoviral serum, while Kylo was mooning about and trying to steal an ugly timepiece off a severed arm. </p><p>“I know we will,” Ren says.</p><p>And he kisses Hux as if he never, ever wants to escape from him, which was pretty much <em>always</em> his part of The Plan.</p>
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